


Tracking the Devil

by Malfi1230



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Hurt Magnus Bane, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Rescue, Rescue Missions, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26052907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malfi1230/pseuds/Malfi1230
Summary: Magnus could only be grateful now for their fight.If we hadn’t fought, you might have been there when Asmodeus came for me, Alec. You might be dead, or in this cell with me.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 16
Kudos: 102





	1. Domestic Squabble

Alec couldn’t breathe. Magnus was gone, and Alec hadn’t been there when it happened.

The reason Alec hadn’t been home when Magnus was taken, the reason Alec hadn’t been home for a week in fact, had started out so quietly, and yet had escalated into one of the worst fights they had ever had. At its peak, Alec had brought up Magnus’s long concealment of his past, and Magnus had brought up Alec’s dealings with Camille. It had ended with the two of them hating each other, and Alec storming out the door. 

When he had tried to come home the next day, Magnus had met him at the door and told him quietly and forcefully to get out. That was when Alec began to wonder if they were done, and what the hell he would do if they were. He’d spent the next week on automatic pilot at the Institute, training and patrolling, giving directions and completing paperwork, pretending not to notice Jace and Izzy’s sideways glances. Finally, it had been Clary who had said, “Go home to Magnus,” in a tone that brooked no argument. Who knew tiny redheads could be such bullies? 

Alec had crept home sheepishly, more than half expecting to be tossed out again. But when he had reached the door and rung the buzzer, no loud, booming voice demanding to know who was calling on the High Warlock of Brooklyn had responded. Alec had come inside anyway, relieved to know that the wards had not been reset to keep him out. The stairs to the landing were dark and empty, and Alec was starting to feel the slightest trepidation when he reached the apartment door. 

It was ajar, and all was dark within. 

Alec burst through. “Magnus?” he called anxiously, then shouted, “MAGNUS!”

___________ 

Isabelle had been hoping that Alec was overreacting, but the scene gave plenty of cause for concern. Magnus was gone, and he had clearly not gone willingly. A highball glass lay sideways on the floor, its contents having left a stain in the dark wood that had long since set. Furniture had been tossed aside, and several scorch marks had been left on the walls. And over it all was the scent of magic and demons. 

There’d been a struggle. It had involved demons. And now Magnus was nowhere to be found. 

Alec was occupied in the back of the apartment, fiddling with what appeared to be a mess of wires and electronics. Isabelle was confused; electronics were not the specialty of any Shadowhunter, and she couldn’t fathom why Alec or Magnus would need an excess of them. Not with Magnus’s ability to summon anything needed. 

“Alec?” she called gently. “What have you got there?” 

Alec looked irritated at her tone, and she reminded herself not to treat him with kid gloves. Ironically, that was the easiest way to irritate him. 

“Surveillance, Izzy.” He carried what looked to be a camera over to the rarely used TV in the living room. “We installed this after we had repeated break-ins and wanted to figure out how someone got past Magnus’s wards.” Alec’s voice went meditative at the memory. “Oddest thing—a warlock who could figure his way through Magnus’s best protections, but forgot all about the possibility of a mundane security camera.” 

Alec quickly scrolled through the footage, rewinding to a scene that had taken place about three days before. Magnus was standing in the middle of the room, the highball glass that now lay on the carpet in his hands, sipping at the brown liquid within. _Whiskey, _Alec thought. Magnus tended towards whiskey when he was upset. And even in the grainy, black and white footage of the security camera, Magnus looked upset. His shoulders were slumped, his hair was untidy, and one hand tattooed a listless rhythm on one leg. Alec ached a little, though part of him felt gratified that he hadn’t been the only one who had spent the week distraught.__

____

____

A few minutes later, Magnus looked up suddenly at the door. There was no sound with the security footage, but Alec would guess that the doorbell had rung. Magnus walked over to the door, stumbling a bit. 

Immediately, Alec’s eyes narrowed. _Magnus never stumbles._

____

____

Magnus opened the door without asking who it was—another first—and immediately threw himself backwards, tripping over his own feet as he threw fire and sparks at the figures swarming through his door. Two of the figures burned, but there were more to take their places, and Magnus was clearly having trouble with his magic. He couldn’t seem to focus it; each strike lacked its normal potency. Magnus looked at his hands in confusion, ducked behind the sofa, trying to find cover, and threw one last blast of flame over the top of the sofa cushions. The figures, realizing Magnus’s strength was waning, came around the furniture and pulled Magnus from his hiding place. Magnus’s body was compliant. He seemed barely conscious. He gave one last struggle as his hands and ankles were tied, then slumped bonelessly to the ground. 

Alec looked down at his hands and found them clenched. His fingernails had made crescent shaped cuts in his palm. Half to distract himself, Alec picked up the highball glass and sniffed at it. “The whiskey,” he mumbled to Izzy. “It was drugged.” 

Izzy had one hand over her mouth, but her eyes were steady as she rewound the tape to watch it again. “Who is that?” she asked on second viewing, pointing at the one figure that didn’t swarm around Magnus, but instead lounged insouciantly against the frame of the front door. He was small and neat, in a perfectly tailored suit that had a distinctive emblem on the front left lapel. His straight hair was dark, parted on one side and combed neatly. Alec couldn’t make out the details of his face, but he appeared relatively young—perhaps 25, or 30 at the oldest. When Magnus was bound and tied, that one figure pointed his finger about as if giving orders, then turned on his heel and exited, clearly confident his commands would be fulfilled. 

“The leader, apparently.” Alec ground his teeth. “Or at least the head henchman.” He doubted that the person, or entity, or demon, who had ordered this operation would actually go in person to see it done. 

“Wait.” Izzy paused the video. “What is that?” She pointed at a small design, just barely visible, on the back collar of the man’s jacket. 

Alec looked closely. “That, my brilliant sister, is a clothing label. We now know where this man buys his suits.”


	2. Bad Dreams

Magnus’s shoulders hurt. He couldn’t remember why. All he could remember was pain.

He’d been hanging from the ceiling for… he couldn’t remember. A long time. Or no time at all? At first, he had tried to keep track. He’d tried to keep his head. And he had. He had kept his head through many terrible things.

The last thing Magnus remembered from his home was unwillingly closing his eyes on the floor of his loft, unable to move as what apparently was a well-organized team of invaders had tied his wrists and ankles. He’d opened his eyes to bars and chains and a dungeon he didn’t recognize. Immediately, he had reached for his magic to unlock the chains suspending him from the ceiling—and had had to bite his lip to keep from screaming. The chains were enchanted with something that turned his magic against him when he tried to use it. Just a minor spell to attempt to break a lock, and Magnus was left whimpering, fire in his bones.

The door had opened then, and Asmodeus had walked in.

Magnus almost rolled his eyes. Really, could it have been anyone else? “Hi, Dad.”

He’d known immediately what Asmodeus wanted. The same thing Asmodeus always wanted—Magnus’s essence, his strength, his lifeforce, willingly given to strengthen Asmodeus. Magnus had refused, with his normal brand of flippancy and charm. That was when the pain had started. Intense and dreadful. Every form of torture Magnus could imagine.

None of it had changed his answer, and Magnus thought that ultimately, he would win this. Not survive it, but win it. He knew he was running short of strength. Eventually, Asmodeus would go too far. He would kill Magnus, inadvertently or otherwise, and then this would all be over. If his life wasn’t given willingly, it couldn’t strengthen Asmodeus. Magnus’s only real regret was that his last words to Alec had been words of anger rather than apology.

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t let Alec return home when he had tried. He’d wanted him. He’d wanted him home more than he could say, despite all the terrible things they had said to each other the night before. Maybe that had been the problem. The terror of wanting someone to come home and be with him, even knowing it might erupt into fury and pain in a moment. With Camille’s ugly words running through his mind, as fresh as if they had just been uttered, he had thought, _Loneliness always was your weakness, warlock._ And that thought, that his love for Alec was weakness, had turned him vicious.

He’d regretted his decision the moment he spoken. Alec’s face hadn’t moved, hadn’t changed, but something in his eyes and gone crestfallen and broken, and he’d turned away without a word.

Though now, Magnus could only be grateful for their fight. Maybe Alec might have been able to save them. Or maybe not. _If we hadn’t fought, you might have been there when Asmodeus came for me, Alec. You might be dead, or in this cell with me._ Not a chance Magnus would ever take.

It was at that thought that Asmodeus walked backed into the room, dragging Alec in chains behind him.

__________

“Well, that was tedious,” Izzy said flatly, picking at her nails.

“Tedious, but informative.” Alec was working hard to focus on the positive.

They’d been lucky. The clothing label had led them to a small suit shop—a dusty place with an old-world air that catered to a very small clientele. The owner of the shop (a tiny, wizened Italian man) had indeed recognized the still photograph Alec had offered, taken from the security footage. He had steadfastly refused, however, to give them any information, and had looked deeply insulted at the idea that he would share information about a client. Instead of pressing, Izzy had smiled and flattered the man, weaving a story about a boyfriend who was in desperate need of new cufflinks, while Alec slunk silently to the back of the shop with the help of a Silence Rune and thumbed through the shop records. It had taken almost an hour of searching, largely because Alec had no idea what to look for. After all, suit shops didn’t keep detailed records of their customers; they certainly didn’t keep photographs matched with names and addresses. Finally, however, Alec got lucky. In the small room marked “Alterations,” Alec found a jacket of the exact same type and cut as that of the man in the security footage, with the same odd emblem on the lapel.

Safety-pinned to the collar was a name and address for delivery. 

Dominick Borneus, and an Uptown address.

Alec hurried out the door, and Izzy abruptly ended her conversation with the startled Italian shopowner and hurried after him.

“You owe me, _hermano,”_ Izzy huffed. “I am probably more interested in men’s fashion than most young women, but even I have a limit.”

Alec didn’t waste time responding to that. Neither he nor Izzy bothered keeping track of who owed whom what favors. “Dominick Borneus,” Alec said instead. “Anyone you’ve heard of?”

“No,” Izzy said, “And that surprises me. With an operation of this type, I was expecting a repeat offender.”

“Some big deal player, certainly,” Alec agreed. “Not an anonymous vamp. Let’s see if there’s anything in his home that can shed any light on this.”

__________

Alec was dead. Alec was dead five times over. Magnus couldn’t remember how he had died. Had he died in a ring of fire, or with Magnus’s father’s hands around his throat, or with poison clogging his veins?

_All of these things,_ said a voice in Magnus’s ear. _And also none._

Magnus couldn’t make sense of it. Any of it. The world had taken on a tinge of unreality. Something was wrong; something was discordant and dissonant and just not right. He thought if he could get one square inch of his mind to quiet, he could figure it out, but everything was filled with Alec’s limp body.

_I think I’m going mad._

Every bit of Magnus hurt. Every inch of him wanted relief. And none of him deserved it.

_You let him die._

Magnus sobbed. _I didn’t. I tried. God, I swear I tried._

_What good did that do Alec? You failed him._

_Oh God, he’s dead. He’s dead._

Magnus screamed.

And Asmodeus walked into the cell, dragging Alec behind him.

For a moment, everything made sense again. Magnus realized with a rush of violent relief that this wasn’t real, it couldn’t be, because he had just watched Alec die. Had watched him die multiple times, in fact. Yet here he was alive again. Which meant that none of what he had seen was real. Alec was alive, and probably wasn’t even here. Most likely, he was still free, alive and well. This was an illusion. A hallucination. _Alec is alive…_

Then Asmodeus smiled, and waved a hand before his eyes, and suddenly Magnus couldn’t remember what he had just been thinking. His head hurt; his thoughts were sluggish. All he could see was Alec, curled on the floor, one eye swollen and bruised. He strained pointlessly against the chains, and again reached for what little was left of his magic, which only left him whimpering in both fear and pain when the spell again turned against him.

Asmodeus stood with a knife in one hand. “Perhaps now you’ve had a change of heart, my son.”

“Magnus, please…” Alec groaned. “Please help me.”

Magnus took a breath and tried to sound somewhat authoritative and reasonable—a real trick when he was suspended from the ceiling in chains. “Father, leave him out of this. This is between you and me.”

“Fine.” His father shrugged, apparently uninterested. “Promise me your life, willingly and unhesitatingly, and I will send him home unharmed.” The large knife in his hand made the unspoken threat for him.

“Magnus, don’t,” Alec said from the floor. “It’s ok. Don’t…”

“Fine. Yes. Fine. You win.” Magnus said it immediately, cutting Alec off. “It’s yours. You can have it. I promise. Whatever you want. Please. Just send him home.”

Asmodeus smiled. He nodded. Then he turned and casually plunged the knife into Alec’s chest.

Alec gasped, choking on blood, and slumped to the stone floor. Magnus screamed, and fought desperately at the bindings. Alec was bleeding in front of him, and Magnus couldn’t reach him. Couldn’t do a thing for him. He watched the pool of blood grow around Alec, watched his eyes go dull and lifeless. The agony of it broke something in his mind, and he struck his head repeatedly against the stone wall behind him in futile frustration, wanting oblivion instead of a world without Alexander Lightwood. He didn’t notice when his father left the cell.

Outside the cell door, Asmodeus turned to Borneus, the vampire to whom Asmodeus had promised a place of favor in the kingdom of Edom, and unlimited favors on Earth. It had been Borneus who had conducted weeks of surveillance on Magnus to prepare for his abduction—who had learned Magnus’s drink preferences and drugged his whiskey in its bottle, before it even entered Magnus’s loft.

“My lord, your son has promised you his life five times now. Without his magic, he has no way to see through the illusion, and every time you threaten to kill Lightwood, he immediately surrenders. How many times are you going to perform this little farce?”

“Until it stops being funny,” Asmodeus responded with a smile, and walked back into the cell. 


	3. Zeroing In

_A vampire? No other participants?_ Alec was still reeling.

So far as Alec knew, Magnus had no problem with any of the New York vampires. But there was no mistaking the sensor readings in the apartment—it was all vampire, nothing more. And even if there were, only vampires kept this amount of blood in their refrigerators.

Though Alec noted that it wasn’t enough blood to indicate that this vampire didn’t hunt regularly. He didn’t live off of this supply—it was likely only for emergencies. Not a “vegetarian,” as Simon had once referred to it.

Alec glanced around the apartment, feeling both apprehensive and disappointed. The doors had been very firmly locked and protected by wards; fortunately, the wards were cheap and low quality, clearly completed by a disinterested warlock-for-hire. Magnus would have scoffed at the magic. Given this, Alec and Izzy were able to gain entrance with several strategic Runes. Now that they were inside, Alec knew that this was likely the end of the road. If they couldn’t find answers here, there wasn’t anywhere else to look.

“Alec, come here.” Izzy’s voice was excited.

“What do you have, Iz?” Alec was by her side in an instant.

“Spell books.”

Alec looked over Izzy’s shoulder at the open page in front of him. He had picked up enough magical know-how from Magnus to know that this was a summoning spell. And he knew the name of the demon written into the spell, even if it was written in Old Edomic. 

“Asmodeus.” Alec’s voice was paper thin and just as dry.

“Do you think they went to Edom?” 

“No,” Alec said. “Summoning a demon here is one thing. Going back to Edom with him is quite another. Remember, we had to walk there through Faerie. I think it is more likely they are still in this dimension.” Alec wanted to scream. “But this is a big world all on its own, and I’m scared that we are running out of time.” Alec looked around desperately at the spell books and the pentagram. Summoning demons was no small feat. An amateur couldn’t have done it alone; even an experienced witch would have struggled. This would have required a warlock.

Alec took out his phone and dialed quickly. “Catarina, Magnus needs help.”

__________

“Found them.”

Catarina smiled thinly, not quite meeting Alec’s eyes. She had not been happy to hear from Alec and had come only when Alec had been very clear that Magnus’s life hung in the balance. Even now, her attitude was distinctly chilly. Alec knew he should have expected this. Magnus talked to Cat about everything, and Cat was always on Magnus’s side in any dispute. _Even when it's a dispute that is decidedly none of her business,_ Alec thought huffily, but he bit his tongue. He might need Cat’s help again before the end of this.

It had taken almost two days. Catarina had tried tracking Borneus with a few of his belongings, but clearly, he had taken precautions to prevent this. Instead, Catarina had had to attempt to track demonic spectral trails instead, something Alec hadn’t even known was possible. He knew that demons left a signature that could be detected with his sensor, but he hadn’t known such things could be tracked and located by warlocks.

“They can’t always,” Catarina had explained shortly. “But with Greater Demons, the trail is clearer. They have something of a signature. And the magic that summons them leaves a bit of a mark. All the same, there’s a lot of magic and a lot of demon in the world. This sort of work—it’s like finding a needle in a haystack.”

Two days. Two days after Alec had realized Magnus was gone and he and Izzy had found Borneus’s apartment. Two days of Catarina doing nothing but searching, sleeping and eating only when exhausted and empty of magic. Two days of Alec biting his nails to the quick and firing arrow after arrow in vicious target practice, Izzy staring either pensively at her brother or pensively out the nearest window, winding and unwinding her whip, while Jace sharpened his swords and stood protectively as close to Alec as Alec would permit. And Clary—Clary just watched. Alec supposed Clary had become accustomed to waiting in the days her mother lay in a magically-induced coma in a mundane hospital, dead to the world and with little hope of ever being anything else.

Until finally, Catarina had sent Alec a text, saying only, “Come. Now.” Alec had sprinted to obey.

“Where?” he asked Catarina. 

“Albania,” she answered. “Don’t ask me why. Middle of nowhere in fact.” Catarina swept a hand in the air, and suddenly Alec was looking at a ghostly image of what seemed to be an old castle, stones crumbling with age. “The subterranean levels of the castle are warded—I can feel that. I would guess that’s where Magnus is being kept.”

“Alec,” Jace said, “When are we going?” Not, “Are we going?” but, “When will we do it?”

“As soon as possible.” Alec set his jaw. “And we aren’t going alone. As soon as we get Magnus out, I want this place flooded with every Shadowhunter we have. I want anyone who had a hand in this hauled before a tribunal.”

“You don’t want to open with that?” asked Clary quizzically.

Alec shook his head. “Open full-force attacks are what lead to hostages being murdered. I want Magnus out of harm’s way before anyone gets wind that we’re there.”

Catarina nodded, apparently approving of Alec’s priorities despite herself. “I can walk you through the layout of this place. And I can be standing by to Portal in as many Shadowhunters as you want. As soon as I get word that Magnus is safe. If you have something of his, I can perform a spell on it that will let it lead you to him once you are within a certain distance of him.” 

Alec looked at her in wonder. “Do you have the strength for that, after two days of searching?” When she nodded wordlessly, Alec looked at his team. He was buzzing with urgency; every moment of hesitation felt like an outright betrayal and a mortal mistake. “Then there isn’t much reason to wait. Let’s get ourselves together. When we Portal over there, we can scout and then wait for nightfall.”

__________

“I think you might have given one show too many, my lord.”

Asmodeus pursed his lips, clearly unhappy to be reprimanded, even with the respectful honorific of “my lord” tacked to the end of the sentence. He shrugged and said, “He’ll snap out of it. My boy has always been resilient.”

Borneus peered at the senseless warlock doubtfully, but let this go without comment. “As you say, my lord.”

“Always.” Asmodeus smiled. “Leave him be. He’ll bounce back. Attachments come and go for immortal creatures, as I am sure you have experienced. Give him time.”


	4. Found

The Portal spat them out, and Alec, Izzy, Jace, and Clary emerged into a large antechamber, soundless but for their echoing footsteps. After Catarina had sent them to the foothills surrounding the castle, they had gleaned what information they could from a distance. It was precious little, but they had managed to glimpse this large echoing room through a window. Consideration of an attempt to get closer and try to get a better idea of the fortress ended with the decision not to risk giving away their presence on the hills; there had been little to do at that point but wait until nightfall. Since it was the only room of the castle they had been able to see from outside, Clary had created a Portalled them into the antechamber.

In Alec’s hand, Magnus’s favorite necklace (a Christmas gift from Alec the year before) glowed subtly in the dimness. He could feel its elusive tug, beckoning him deeper into the castle to wherever Magnus was kept.

“Go, Alec.” Jace glanced around furtively. “We can hold this location. This is above the wards; this is where we can Portal back out. We hold this position. You go find Magnus—get back here as soon as possible.” 

“For God’s sake, be quick,” Izzy said, and unfurled her whip. “We are alone now, but I doubt things will stay so peaceful.”

Alec turned without another word and ran down a corridor. 

__________

Magnus drifted in his own mind. His shoulders had gone past the point of pain; he couldn’t feel them anymore. Empirically he knew that this was a bad thing, but somehow it seemed fitting. He couldn’t feel anything anymore. His father smiled at him; Magnus flinched, and he was gone. A vampire Magnus didn’t know stood in front of him, checking his pulse and pursing his lips critically. “No change, my lord.” Then he was gone. Magnus looked at the floor, and it was sticky with Alec’s blood. He blinked, and the floors were clean again. There were faces in the corners and voices in his mind, but Magnus couldn’t distinguish any of them, so he let them all go indistinct and fuzzy.

It was better to drift. Easier. Magnus closed his eyes.

__________

The door opened smoothly with only the faintest of creaks, and Alec edged carefully into the cell to which Magnus’s charmed necklace had led him, checking the corners for any hostile presence before finally lowering his bow and slinging it over his back. Magnus dangled lifelessly from chains hooked to the ceiling, his eyes closed and his body limp. He hadn’t responded to the sound of the cell door opening, and he didn’t respond to the sound of Alec’s approach.

“Magnus?”

Alec thought he detected the slightest movement of Magnus’s eyes behind the closed lids.

“Magnus!” He cupped Magnus’s face, and Magnus hummed quietly in response. His eyes remained closed.

“Magnus, I am going to unchain you. It may hurt—your shoulders are swollen. I think you’ve been here a while. I’m sorry for that.” _I took too long._ Alec scrawled an Open rune on the cuffs and breathed a sigh of relief when it worked.

Alec caught Magnus around the waist as he slumped to the floor. The pain in his shoulders, released from their forced upward stretch for the first time in what must have been a very long time, did what Alec could not, and roused Magnus from his stupor. He groaned and opened his eyes blearily. His blinked, then fastened his gaze on Alec.

Magnus stared. Blinked again.

“Alec…” For a moment, Magnus appeared dazed with joy, then his face turned bitter. “Very convincing, Father.”

Alec felt his own brow crease in confusion, but before he could answer, Magnus seemed to summon himself and pushed back against Alec’s chest, trying to free himself. The push was weary, but determined, and Alec felt his grip around Magnus—the only thing keeping Magnus upright—begin to give. Carefully, Alec lowered him to the cell floor before he could fall, and contemplated Magnus with bewilderment.

He couldn’t understand Magnus’s response. There was no chance Magnus was foolish enough to let a fight, no matter how terrible, that had occurred five days ago stop him from accepting rescue when it came. Yet Magnus seemed horrified at the sight of Alec, and Alec could only watch helplessly as Magnus recoiled from him.

“Magnus, what is it?”

“Stop it. You’re not real. I know you’re not.”

_I’m not real?_ “Magnus, what are you…?”

“Please, not again…”

“ _What are you talking about?_ Again… when?”

“You’re not real! You’re not real! Please, _not again._ ” Magnus huddled against the wall and wept.

“Magnus, talk to me!” But Magnus said nothing and refused to meet his eyes.

Alec stopped and tried to think, understanding enough to know that Magnus thought he was a hallucination. He crouched down before Magnus. _What do I say? How do I get through?_

_If the positions were reversed, what would convince me?_


	5. Escaping Hell

“Magnus, listen to me.”

“No, not again. Please, I can’t do it again.”

“Magnus. Listen.”

“NO! NOT AGAIN!” Magnus tried to break away, put everything he had into it, but couldn’t manage it. The stranger’s hands, the hands that felt like Alec’s, but couldn’t be Alec’s, definitely _were not Alec’s,_ gripped him firmly, and he had nothing in him, no strength left, to pull himself free.

“Magnus, listen to me. You know me. We first met at your loft. You were hosting a party, remember? You winked at me, asked me to call you. Then a few days later, you came to heal me when I was poisoned by a greater demon. You had no reason to do that. You owed me nothing. You didn’t even know me. You did it because you are kind.” Alec’s hands were cupping his face, and he said those words with a special emphasis. “The kindest person I have ever known. And when I came to thank you, I ended up asking you out, and I told you I had never had a first kiss. And you kissed me right then and there. Remember?”

Of course Magnus remembered. That moment was a bit of a turning point in his very long life. He remembered his lips on Alec’s, Alec’s hands on his waist, and the encroaching intuition that he was beginning something deeply significant. Part of him had known already that this was his last love.

“I remember thinking, ‘Oh, that’s how it’s supposed to feel—I get it now.’ I had never understood before.”

Magnus wanted to laugh a bit at that.

“Months later, you came to Idris to fight in the Mortal War. Clary drew the rune that made us all see the person we loved most, remember? I saw you. You. Do you hear me?”

Magnus froze. He had never known that.

“And when we went to Europe together, and the Crimson Hand popped up, I know you blamed yourself for ruining our vacation. But I was just happy to be with you. I would have gone anywhere with you. I wasn’t scared, fighting demons and cultists with you. I wasn’t scared to die. It would have been a privilege to die for you. Still would be.”

Magnus didn’t know what to believe. He knew that Alec was dead. He had watched him die. Whoever this was saying these things couldn’t be his Alec. But the words had become a lifeline, and he couldn’t stop listening. And somehow, instead of pulling back from the person before him, Magnus had knotted his hands in his shirt.

“And we’ve had issues since. I betrayed you with Camille, and somehow you forgave me. You’ve told me things you never told anyone. Things you certainly had no obligation to tell me. You told me because you wanted my trust. And I loved you all the more for it. Magnus, I love you. I will always love you. Until the day I die. And after today, if you don’t want it, if you don’t want me, you don’t ever have to see me ever again. But please. Please. Right now, I am begging you. _Come with me.”_

Magnus looked at the man before him. The man who looked so much like his Alec.

_You can’t be him. I watched him die. It killed me. I was waiting for something to finish the job._

But the man before him was looking at him pleadingly with those blue eyes, and even if it was a demon’s trick, he knew he couldn’t say no.

He tried his best for a smile. It flickered uncertainly, but Alec was there to meet it.

“Whatever you say, darling. But I think I’ll need your help.”

__________

The hallway was long, and dark, and echoed ominously, and Alec wanted to scream with frustration.

He knew exactly where this hallway ended. It ended in Jace, Isabelle, and Clary, waiting for him to return with Magnus, holding a secure position in the antechamber for them all to Portal home. Hopefully, they were still concealed, but all were armed to the teeth in case they were discovered. He knew that reinforcements were waiting just a mile from their location. As soon as he had Magnus home, Shadowhunters were going to pour into this location and examine it with a fine-toothed comb, collecting evidence and making arrests.

And Magnus needed to be out of here before that happened—before anyone in here thought to kill the hostage. That needed to happen sooner rather than later.

Magnus was barely able to walk, however, let alone run down the hallway to where their return home was waiting. He stumbled alongside Alec willingly, but the faster they tried to move, the more Magnus’s feet tended to tangle up around each other. And he kept looking at Alec as if he wasn’t entirely sure Alec was real. As if this whole reality might be a clever trick.

As unclear as he was as to what had happened, Alec wanted to personally throttle Asmodeus. But he would settle for banishing him.

The two of them stumbled into the antechamber into which Alec, Jace, Clary, and Isabelle had originally Portalled. Jace, Clary, and Isabelle all stood to one side, drawing the attention of Asmodeus, large and cat-eyed and subtly terrifying, and a small, neat vampire Alec could identify as Borneus. Alec thought he might hate Borneus more than Asmodeus—Asmodeus had been following his nature. But vampires were people. They came in all types. Alec knew plenty of decent vampires. Borneus had made a conscious decision.

But all of that paled next to the warlock in his arms, whose grip on consciousness was fading fast. _That_ was Alec’s concern. The rest could wait.

“Clary!” He shouted. “Now!”

Clary was ready, as Alec knew she would be. They had all decided beforehand—they were not going to attempt to truly battle Asmodeus. If it came to a face-to-face confrontation, they would only stall him. The heavy lifting would be left for the Clave army that would come in as soon as they were gone. They were here only for Magnus.

The moment Alec shouted, Clary scrawled a Rune in the air, and Alec ran for it, pulling Magnus after him. Magnus stumbled again, and Alec hauled him upright and tight against him.

“Go!” he shouted, and Izzy leapt through the portal.

Asmodeus screamed in fury as he saw what was inevitably about to occur. “Borneus!” he screamed. “Kill him!”

Borneus turned his gaze to Alec and Magnus, and his eyes locked on… not Alec. Magnus.

Magnus froze in Alec’s arms, but Alec refused to stop. He hauled Magnus forward, half carrying him, his feet skimming over the stone floor. They tumbled towards the portal just as Borneus jumped for them.

Then the Portal was around them, deafening and ferocious.


	6. Home Again

They came flying out of the Portal, and straight into water.

Magnus sank for a moment in shock then remembered he could swim. He clawed his way back up, breaking the surface with a gasp.

“Alec?” He searched the dark water’s surface desperately. It was night, and he couldn’t see much. As far as he could tell, he was alone. Magnus treaded water weakly, knowing he was tired and weak and couldn’t swim for long. He needed to get to shore but was deeply unwilling to go anywhere until he found Alec. _Was it really Alec? What did I see?_

Then he felt hands on him from behind. For a moment, he was overwhelmed with relief, thinking they must belong to Alec, but the grip felt utterly wrong. Alec’s hands were always strong but tender, firm but gentle. These hands were also strong, but rough, and unforgiving, and shoving him ruthlessly under the water.

_The vampire. Asmodeus’s ally. He came through the portal with us._

Magnus struggled desperately and was frightened by how frail his struggles were. His movement barely disturbed the water. And with every moment under the surface, he could feel himself becoming weaker. He reached into his internal well of magic, already knowing he’d find it empty. The chains that had held him had suppressed his magic for so long, turning it against him until it depleted itself, and now he was sick from the lack of it.

Magnus couldn’t help it—reflexively, he tried to breathe, despite knowing he was underwater. His lungs filled with water that burned like fire. He spasmed feebly, and the hands simply shoved him down deeper.

_I’m dying. Who knew dying could hurt so much._ He’d read somewhere that drowning was agony. Agony didn’t begin to describe it.

He wondered where Alec was. He hoped he had gotten safely to shore.

And suddenly, the rough, cruel hands were gone. Magnus floated, suspended, in the water. A solitary voice from some bright corner of his mind screamed, _Swim! Swim, you idiot!,_ but darkness was encroaching on that corner, and he couldn’t move. Part of him was relieved, now that he had made it to the far side of the agony of drowning, to have an excuse to just let himself drift towards the void.

Searching fingers brushed his face beneath the water; urgent hands grabbed his arm. Then he knew nothing more.

__________

Alec had never been a vicious person. He didn’t enjoy killing. But if someone had put the Soul Sword in his hands and asked him if he had felt any amount of satisfaction, any vindication, at hearing the crack of Borneus’s neck when Alec had pulled him back from the splash of an underwater struggle and given that neck a savage twist, Alec knew what exactly his answer would have been.

Any ugly gratification faded the instant after Borneus’s eyes went glassy. _Magnus. By the Angel._ Alec had hoped he would surface as soon as Borneus wasn’t there to hold him underwater. _Where is he? Is he unconscious? He can't be..._

Alec dove, blind in the freezing river, searching with his hands. The cold was nothing. The dark was nothing. Even his own fear for Magnus felt far away, next to his single-minded desperation to save Magnus.

His hands felt flesh; he grabbed an arm and shot for the surface.

__________

There was air again in his lungs. Just a tiny bit, but it pulled Magnus back from the line between unconsciousness and death.

“Come on, Magnus.” 

But the air in his lungs was mixed with water; someone was pressing firmly on his chest, repeatedly. His ribs ached and complained, and yet the motion was forcing the water out and encouraging his heart to beat.

“Come on, damn it!”

_Alexander?_

“Breathe!”

_Trying…_

“Breathe! Please. Just breathe!”

Lips on his, his nose plugged shut, and more air pushed its way into his lungs.

_“Magnus!”_

Finally, he had enough air to cough, and his chest exploded. His hands scrabbled at the ground, digging into what felt like mud, but he couldn’t cough hard enough to expel the water out, and every time he tried to breathe in past the water, his lungs seized. It felt like drowning again, only now on solid ground.

Someone rolled him on his side and slapped his back, and the water burst out of his lungs in a rush. He spat and coughed feebly, finally able to get a full breath now that he had what felt like 60% of his lungs back. 

“Well done, Mags. Well done. Keep it up.” The hands on his shoulders stroked up and down comfortingly.

“Alexander?” Was that Magnus’s own voice? Certainly, that weak, sick voice couldn’t be his.

“Yeah, it’s me.” The hands had turned hesitant.

“Alec, where are we?” 

“New York. Brooklyn. Near your loft. We came out of the portal into the East River.” Alec sounded a bit chagrinned. “I guess creating portals to and from unfamiliar places is trickier than we anticipated, especially under time pressure. Not that I’d really know.” 

Magnus wanted to laugh, but the pain in his chest convinced him that was a bad idea. “I was drowning.”

“You’re not now.”

“The vampire—my father’s vampire—he was drowning me…”

“He’s dead now.” Alec spoke with finality.

Magnus shivered. _Of course you are shivering,_ thought the cool, distant part of his mind that tended to take potshots at the world. _You just went swimming in the East River in winter._ He was so cold. He’d never been so cold in his life. And he had lived a long life, parts of which had been in frigid climes. He shivered again. That cold was beginning to make him feel desperate.

“Alec? Is that you? Is Magnus with you?” Jace’s voice. No doubt Clary and Isabelle wouldn’t be far away. As grateful as he was to them, Magnus felt raw inside and wasn’t sure he could face anyone else. Not even friends.

“Alec, we need to get to the Institute. My phone is exploding—the raid went well. Asmodeus was banished, though I’m sure he’ll be back someday. We need to go. No doubt there will be questions for us.”

If Magnus couldn’t face Jace, he definitely couldn’t face the Institute. He could feel Alec looking in the direction from which Jace’s voice was coming, muscles tensed to stand, and Magnus reached around to grab Alec’s hand.

“Please?” It was weak to ask, and Magnus wasn’t even certain what he was asking. _Please don’t make me go to the Institute? Please don’t make me talk to people who are going to want explanations? Please don’t make me pretend that I’m fine in front of you friends?_

_Please don’t leave me?_

Whatever it was, Alec seemed to understand. “Give me a minute.”

He stood and jogged several paces away, and Magnus heard him speaking softly, but urgently. Then he was back.

“Come on, I’m going to get you home. I’ll help you, but you need to stand.”

__________

In the end, Alec had done most of the work of transporting the two of them to Magnus’s loft, which thankfully was only a few blocks away. Magnus was reeling like a drunk, weak as a kitten, and shivering like a leaf in the wind. Alec, though clearly also cold and wet, seemed firmly in control of himself, and with every step he took more of Magnus’s weight onto his own shoulders. Magnus was embarrassed to need the help. His body felt stiff and immobile. He was so cold, so frighteningly cold; it had sunk into his bones and become debilitating. Even though everything in him yearned for home, Magnus knew that if Alec weren’t here, he would have fallen down in the gutter and stayed there.

Finally, they were scrambling up the stairs to Magnus’s loft. Magnus’s knees gave way on the last flight, and Alec essentially carried him the rest of the way. The door handle reacted to Magnus’s hand when Alec placed it there and opened smoothly—they tumbled in, and Magnus fell stiffly to the floor.

He closed his eyes, and everything went grey around the edges, then blurred.


	7. End

Alec knelt beside Magnus with barely restrained panic. Magnus’s lips were tinged with blue and his eyes were closed. When Alec pressed a finger to his throat, Magnus’s pulse was slow and weak. And to Alec’s utter horror, he had stopped shivering.

Alec had learned the basics of first aid from Hodge, long ago. And he knew that, with hypothermia, shivering was actually a good sign. Shivering meant the body was still trying to stay warm. Magnus, on the other hand, had gone still and given up, and his skin was cold to the touch.

“Magnus?” His eyelids fluttered, but he showed no other reaction.

Alec slid his arms under Magnus and lifted him urgently. Magnus slumped stiffly in his arms as Alec carried him as quickly as he could to the bedroom. He deposited him on the bed and felt his forehead. “Magnus, you have hypothermia. You are going to be fine, but I need to take your wet clothes off.” Magnus didn’t respond, and Alec removed the sodden clothes from his long, lean body, which suddenly seemed fragile and pale. He put a hand to Magnus’s head, guessing at his temperature while trying desperately to ignore Magnus’s nakedness. _Alec, by the Angel. He is unconscious._ Besides, Alec honestly wasn’t sure if Magnus wanted anything like that to do with him anymore. One thing he’d need to make clear later was that Magnus didn’t need to feel indebted to him for any of this. He didn’t want guilt playing into whether Magnus chose to be with him.

Alec hunted around the room and checked all the closets until he had found every blanket available, and piled all of them on top of Magnus, wrapping them closely around him. He stood and quickly removed his own wet clothes, wishing he wasn’t also somewhat hypothermic. His own condition wasn’t nearly as serious as Magnus’s, but his skin was also wet and cold and what Magnus needed right now was _warmth._

At the moment, however, this was the best Alec could do. The only other source of warmth he could think of was a hot bath, and that would have warmed Magnus dangerously quickly and perhaps caused arrythmia. He slid under the thick pile of blankets and put his arms around Magnus. He was alarmed to feel just how icy Magnus was. His skin was hard and frigid, and he didn’t react to Alec’s body pressed against his, but Alec pulled him up against him and began rubbing his torso. He could see Hodge in his mind’s eye, instructing him that, for a person with hypothermia, you had to warm the trunk first, not the extremities. _Warming the extremities first can cause shock. And be gradual and deliberate. Impatience leads to heart failure._

Alec didn’t know how long he lay there, rubbing some warmth back into Magnus’s chest, praying for Magnus’s to show some sign of improvement. Finally, he felt Magnus move just a little against him. He didn’t open his eyes, but he gasped softly, and began shivering slightly.

“Good, this is good.” Alec said, breathing easier. “Magnus, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’ve got you. You’re safe. We just need to warm you up a bit, and then you’re going to be alright.”

Magnus struggled against him weakly. “Can’t reach him… need to help… he’s hurting him…” he muttered thickly.

“Who, Mags? Who’s hurting who?” Magnus didn’t answer; Alec didn’t press.

“I’ve got you. Lie still.” Alec slipped as quickly as he could out from under the covers, hating to let cold air in even for a moment. He went to the foot of the bed and found Magnus’s feet. They were still white, hard, and cold, and Magnus didn’t react in the slightest when Alec cradled one in his hands and began rubbing it, massaging blood back into it.

After several minutes, Magnus began to squirm and moan. Alec grimaced sympathetically, imagining the burning pins-and-needles of returning sensation, but didn’t stop until both of Magnus’s feet had returned to their normal, flesh-colored softness. “Sorry about this,” he said idly to Magnus’s mostly unconscious form. “I didn’t think you’d be happy if you woke up without all of your toes.” He moved on to Magnus’s hands, which were striped red and white with odd patterns of numbness. Alec chafed them gently between his own, taking the opportunity to study Magnus’s face—the sharp angles that seemed perhaps a tiny bit sharper after his time in Asmodeus's prison, the dark bags under his eyes that had absolutely not been there five days before. He was relieved to see that Magnus’s lips were no longer tinged with blue. He tucked Magnus’s hands back under the covers and pulled the comforter up to his chin.

Alec put a hand to Magnus’s forehead and felt the warmth with a violent surge of relief. He also noted with affection the sound of Magnus’s customary faint snore. He wanted to slide into bed next to him but wasn’t sure how Magnus would feel to wake up and find him there. Medical treatment was one thing—desperate times and whatnot—but before he had disappeared, Magnus had told Alec in no uncertain terms to leave and stay gone. Now that they were back safely, Alec wasn’t sure where they stood, and the last thing he wanted was to take advantage of the situation.

He sat and watched Magnus breathe for a few minutes, then stood and moved quietly through the dark bedroom to the chest of drawers. He opened his set and rummaged around for a long-sleeved sweatshirt and sweatpants. He slipped silently into the bathroom to shower, taking one last moment to listen to Magnus’s even breaths on his way out.

When he was done, he came back into the bedroom and checked Magnus’s temperature again, encouraged to find that Magnus was still warm and breathing normally. All the same, Alec knew he didn't have it in him to leave Magnus and return to the Institute. Rather than climb into bed with someone who may or may not appreciate his presence, or walk out of the apartment and leave Magnus completely alone, Alec lay down on the floor of the bedroom and closed his eyes. Despite the hardness of the floor, Alec immediately fell into a dreamless sleep, lulled by the sound of Magnus’s breathing.

__________

Magnus had been having such a nice dream. He’d been cold, alarmingly cold, and that hadn’t been nice, but Alec had been there. Alec had held him, and rubbed some warmth back into him, and whispered comforting things, until the cold and the fear both had dissipated. It had felt safe; he’d had thick blankets over him and Alec at his back. Alec, alive and present and not hating him for kicking him out of his own home.

Then his dreams had taken an ugly turn. Alec’s warm, solid presence had disappeared, and instead he was staring at his father. Asmodeus flashed a wide, wolfish smile, his teeth as sharp as a vampire’s. “I’ll take him,” he said, almost tenderly. “He’s already mine.” He looked down at his feet, and Magnus followed his eyes.

Alec was slumped at Asmodeus’s feet, body twisted in an unnatural position, but he was beyond discomfort. His eyes were wide and staring, and his throat—something had torn it out.

Magnus’s eyes flew back up to his father’s face, to the smile that dripped blood.

__________

“ALEC!”

“Magnus. Magnus, I’m here.”

_No. Please. I’ll do anything._

“Magnus, come on. Wake up. You're alright.”

Magnus realized he was lying in his own bed. And there was someone sitting beside him, perched at the edge.

He sat upright with a jolt. A calloused hand rubbed up and down his arm. “Magnus, look at me.”

Desperately, Magnus turned towards that voice, and there he was. _Alec. My Alec._

It couldn’t be real. Alec had died before his eyes in a hundred different ways. And when he had closed his eyes and let himself fall into slumber, those hundred different ways had flashed through his dreams. _Will I ever be free of it?_

But Alec sat before him, wonderfully alive and real, and with his magic and his strength beginning to return, Magnus was beginning to be able to sort out what had been real and what hadn’t. It was a laborious process—distinguishing in memory the foggy horror of the hallucinations from the dim bleakness and pain of reality. _The cell was real. Asmodeus was real. The vampire had been real. But Alec wasn’t there, not until he came to save you. He didn’t die. He wasn’t strangled, or burned, or stabbed, or poisoned, or…_

Magnus pressed his eyes shut and fell forward, letting his forehead rest against Alec’s collarbone. It was the only thing that kept him from losing all sense of reality.

_Alec is here. Alec is real. Alec is alive._

Magnus wept.

He felt Alec’s hands on his shoulders, holding him steady as he cried.

__________

It felt like hours later when Magnus had calmed enough to speak or be spoken to. “Do you want to tell me?” Alec asked.

No. But somehow it came out anyway. 

“Alec, I’m sorry.”

Alec looked confused but said nothing.

“I watched you die. So many times.” 

Alec’s face didn’t change. He just looked all the more intently into Magnus’s face and cupped between his hands.

“Alec, I swear I tried.” This felt important; Magnus had failed to save Alec, but it hadn’t been for a lack of effort. “I watched Asmodeus drag you into my cell. I didn’t know how he’d found you. And I tried to reach you. But the chains…” Magnus looked with disgust down at his red, chafed wrists. Alec picked one up and ran his fingers gently over the raw skin, then took both of Magnus’s hands in his. “I couldn’t get free of them. And when I tried to use magic… It didn’t work. The chains had some spell on them. My magic was suppressed. Whatever magic I used just turned against me.” Alec’s grip on him tightened protectively, but the pain had meant nothing to Magnus at the time. Nothing but another obstacle between him and Alec. “I couldn’t get to you. I just couldn’t. And I swear I tried…” Magnus said it again, then broke off, and suddenly he threw himself against the wall behind him, banging his head over, and over, and over again against the wall, in the same repetitive motion he had used in the cell. Because it was misery, the images that he couldn’t get out of his head, and God help him, he would never rid himself of the shame of watching Alec, his Alec, die before his eyes.

“Magnus! Stop it. Please!” Alec stuck his hand between Magnus’s head and the wall and gripped his head fiercely, but tenderly. He paused as Magnus’s angry movement finally stilled. “Magnus, you have a bump back here.” He peered narrowly at Magnus, but Magnus couldn’t respond. Now that he had started talking, he couldn't stop.

“Every time it started again, it was like the first time. I’d have moments where I could tell myself it wasn’t real. Where I knew it was a hallucination. But then I’d forget. Maybe my father was doing something to my mind… I’d think I’d finally figured it out, finally realized what was happening, but as soon as it began again, I forgot and you were dying again, as if you’d never died before.” Alec, dying with a knife through his heart. Alec, dying in pain and misery. Alec, begging for Magnus’s help. Asking why Magnus refused to save him. The pain had been like nothing Magnus could ever anticipate. And each time had felt raw and new. “And then I couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t. I thought I was going mad…”

Suddenly, Magnus couldn’t breathe. The images had frozen his lungs, he was stuck in the memory of being lost in his own mind, and somehow, he had forgotten that Alec was right there before him. He felt paralyzed in panic. He thought he might die in this moment.

“Magnus, breathe out for me. Breathe out.”

What was that high-pitched wheezing noise? _That can’t be me. Dear God._

“Magnus, come on, baby. Breathe out.”

_Alec almost never uses pet names._

“I’m here, baby. Breathe out for me.”

Magnus finally managed to exhale. As soon as he had, he sucked in just as large a breath of air.

“That’s fine. In, and out again. Come on. Breathe with me.”

Magnus let it out again. 

“Good, baby. You’re doing great.”

Magnus let out his breath in a great gust, but couldn’t remember how to take another breath in. He was back in the water, sucking in and hoping to find oxygen, but only finding more on which to choke.

“Magnus, please!”

Alec pulled Magnus against him, chest to chest, his hand strong and steady against his back.

“Come on. Breathe with me. Count the breaths.”

It wasn’t coming. Alec was dead. _I failed him. He’s dead He’s dead He’s dead…_

“Magnus, I’m here. I’m not dead. Breathe.”

Magnus hadn’t realized he had been speaking out loud.

“You and me, Mags. We’re going to do this together.”

He reared back to stare at the dark eyes in front of him and sucked in a breath. With that pale, familiar face in front of him, the blue eyes watching him vigilantly, he counted out ten breaths.

“There you are.”

Magnus wanted to smile, and sob. Instead of indulging in either, he hinged forward and let his forehead rest on Alec’s shoulder.

“Please don’t leave me.” The words he had thought earlier. They came out before he could stop them.

Alec’s arms tightened around him. “Never.” One hand rubbed up and down his back. “As long as you’ll have me. I’m here.”

_As long as I’ll have you?_ Magnus didn’t know what Alec meant. Why would he not want Alec? Why would he ever want him to leave?

Then Magnus remembered a terrible fight, and the morning after, a few days before he was taken. When Alec had come home, heartbreakingly sheepish, and Magnus had turned him away again. As if he had had a right to do so. As if this loft hadn’t long since stopped being his and started being theirs.

“Alexander,” he began, then began again, remembering that Alec preferred his nickname. “Alec, I honestly don’t remember what we were fighting about, and I honestly don’t particularly care.” He felt Alec tense a bit, then relax.

“I remember it being stupid,” Alec said, and Magnus felt the smile on his face. “We need to find a better way to handle conflict.”

It was a reasonable observation. The problem was that their honest-to-God “couple conflicts” were rare. Generally, the fact that they adored one another carried them through each person's problems with the other. The deep-rooted insecurities of their relationship—Alec’s fear that he was just a blip in Magnus’s immortal life, and Magnus’s deep dread of the day Alec would eventually die—couldn’t be changed. Given that, the two of them rarely really argued about these things. They didn’t have a lot of practice in maturely addressing disputes.

Also, this was a weirdly quotidian thing to be discussing when Magnus had just been rescued from his Prince of Hell father by his demon-hunter boyfriend. He had nearly drowned, then had nearly succumbed to hypothermia. It had been an odd day, even for them.

“Mags, you’re dropping.” Magnus realized this was true. His head had been nodding against Alec’s shoulder. “You need more sleep. We can talk about all this tomorrow.”

Magnus nodded, and he felt Alec ease him back down onto the pillow. Before Alec could get up again, Magnus’s hand latched onto Alec’s, and he pulled him gently down towards the blankets.

“Please?”

Alec curled himself around Magnus and pulled him up against him, as he had when he was trying rid Magnus’s body of hypothermia. It was strangely simple to match his breaths to Alec’s, like sliding a book back into his accustomed place on a bookshelf. His panic ebbed, and his exhaustion took over. He let his eyes slide closed with his hand locked around Alec’s like a vice.

His last conscious sensation was feeling the press of Alec’s lips on the nape of his neck.


End file.
